


Chaos

by jadepresley



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Inadvisable Grinding, M/M, Mood Lighting is Key, Prequel, Remix, Side Romione, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-17 12:10:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14832027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadepresley/pseuds/jadepresley
Summary: Harry just needs a little chaos.





	Chaos

**Author's Note:**

  * For [megyal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/megyal/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Got caught in the ruse of the world (Lucky13 #8)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1059566) by [megyal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/megyal/pseuds/megyal). 



> Megyal, oh my gosh, I was so intimidated when I was given your name and asked to write this LOL! You are such a phenomenal author and I'm honoured to have had the chance to remix one of your stories! ["Got Caught in the Ruse of the World"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1059566) is such a beautiful fic, and full disclosure: I scrapped about five versions of this before I submitted it because I didn't feel like I was getting the tone you set quite right. In the end, I really just wanted to see the moments that led to your fic, and I really hope you enjoy this little prequel! <3
> 
> Thanks to the mods for being patient with me, and to C for being the best beta in the world and telling me when I'm making no sense.

Harry let the back door swing shut behind him and wandered across the overgrown lawn. There were a few new weeds creeping around the edges of the gardens, and they drooped slightly under the chill of the night air. He and Ron had both been working overtime for the past couple of weeks and neither one of them had had the chance to tidy up the yard. Harry yawned and promised himself he’d do it tomorrow as he lowered himself to the ground and stretched his arms out behind him, leaning his hands back on the damp grass. It was probably too cold to be outside and he’d almost definitely get sick, but there was a breeze tickling his face and and barely any clouds out for once, and the party Ron was throwing inside had started to overwhelm him a bit.

Harry closed his eyes and lifted his chin a little, letting the wind wash over him. 

He was fine, mostly.

He certainly had no real reasons to complain; he had a good job, good friends, a nice house he shared with aforementioned good friends, and he got to go flying almost every weekend. Everything in his life was technically going well, but Harry was beginning to suspect that maybe that was part of the problem. He wasn’t bored with his life, exactly. He was just…

He was kind of restless.

Maybe it was the lingering Gryffindor inside him, or maybe he was just wildly attracted to chaos, but the quiet, predictable calmness he was living right now had him on edge, and he didn’t know what to do with the all the pent up energy in his veins.

It was frustrating more than anything, and he was annoyed with himself for being unsatisfied when things were going so well.

Ron kept saying he just needed to get laid. He was probably at least a little right. Harry hadn’t been with anyone in nearly two years — although he’d had a few weird dates that consisted mostly of people becoming starry eyed around him, and even one memorable nightmare of an encounter in which a guy had started crying when Harry’d offered to buy him a drink. Since then Harry had just sort of given up. People rarely approached him anyway, and because he didn’t really know how to be the one to initiate romance, here he was: sitting alone in the backyard while his best mate threw a party inside with people Harry cared about but didn’t really feel like talking to right now.

He was being sort of pathetic, he knew that; but he decided he’d stay out here and wallow about his quietly predictable but ultimately happy life for just a little bit longer.

* * *

 

Ron and Hermione were _grinding_ by the time Harry came back into the house. _Actually_ grinding, like a couple of horny teenagers who were out drinking beer for the first time in their lives and had no awareness of their surroundings anymore.

 “Jesus Christ - how much did they drink?” Harry asked Dean, wrinkling his nose when Ron started kissing along Hermione’s neck. He’d walked in on them doing much worse — Hermione, unfortunately, insisted it wasn’t legal to obliviate the memory from his mind, though Harry was still planning on getting a second opinion — but there was something much too intimate about seeing his two best mates moving against one another like that.

Dean laughed. “No idea. It’s gross, right? I don’t know if I’m completely horrified or a little turned on.”

“Horrified,” Harry confirmed, looking away. “Definitely horrified.”

The lights were dimmer now — Ron always said ‘mood lighting’ was key for a relaxed ambiance — and though the crowd of people seemed to have grown, the energy of the room had slowed down.

“Wait, what the fuck?” Harry blurted out suddenly, spotting a familiar and unexpected face across the room. “I didn’t know he was coming.”

Dean followed his line of sight. “Oh, yeah. I heard he was here. Weird, innit? He seems so normal these days.”

Harry didn’t mean to stare, but Draco Malfoy was stood leaning against a wall in his Slytherin Quidditch gear from Hogwarts, casually chatting to Ginny and oblivious to the fact that he was causing Harry to have minor heart palpitations.

They saw one another sometimes, around Diagon Alley and at Gringotts, and things between them were decent enough, but Malfoy had certainly never been dressed like _that,_ and he’d absolutely, one hundred percent never shown up at any of Harry and his friends’ social gatherings. Harry was mildly alarmed to realise he was glad Malfoy was here.   

“He looks good,” Dean commented at the same moment Malfoy looked up and caught Harry’s eye.

“Stop staring, he’s looking at us,” Harry whispered urgently, dropping his gaze. He wished he had a drink or something he could hold onto so he wasn’t just standing there awkwardly _not_ looking Malfoy’s way. 

“You were staring first,” Dean argued.

“Shut up. What’s he doing now?” Harry pressed.

“Coming over, I think.”

“What?!”

“Yeah, he’s looking right at us,” Dean whispered conspiratorially. “Didn’t I hear you used to have a thing for him?”

“What the fuck? No!” Harry hissed, even though he definitely remembered that one drunken night back in school when he had told Seamus he thought Malfoy was good looking.

“He’s walking this way,” Dean continued. “He’s almost here. He’s only looking at you now. He’s about to reach us. This is going to be weird, isn’t it? Fuck. I’m leaving, bye.”

“Dean, no, wait—”

“Potter,” Malfoy greeted just as Dean slipped away and disappeared into the kitchen.

“Bastard,” Harry muttered, glaring after him before turning to Malfoy.

He shouldn’t have, in hindsight, because Malfoy had reached an unfair level of attractiveness, and as he stared at Malfoy’s jawline, Harry found he was able to think even less clearly than back when he used to mildly stalk him. He absolutely did not drop his gaze to Malfoy’s chest, though he did make a mental note to curse Ron later for insisting a Back to School theme was a good idea.

Malfoy frowned. “Excuse me?”

“No, sorry, not you,” Harry said quickly. “Dean was just being… well, I don’t really know, but I do know he’s a bastard.” He shrugged and offered a half-arsed smile. “Did you need something?”

“No,” Malfoy replied, running his finger around the lip of the glass in his hand. Harry watched as tiny droplets of moisture pooled around the tip of Malfoy’s finger, mesmerised by the slow circles he was tracing. “Potter,” Malfoy said loudly, and Harry startled. “I said I was looking for you earlier.”

“I was outside,” Harry told him, “Getting some air.”

“Are you drunk?”

Harry laughed. “I’ve barely had anything to drink. Why? Do I look drunk?”

Malfoy reached out and tugged at Harry’s hair, making him yelp. He held up a crumpled leaf.

“I suppose I just assumed you wouldn’t roll around on the ground sober.”

Harry stepped back, ruffling his hair and watched as a couple more leaves fell to the floor. Harry silently cursed Dean for not telling him what a mess he was as he quickly vanished them from the carpet. “You don’t know me very well then,” he joked lightly. “I love to roll around in the grass.”

Malfoy arched his eyebrows suggestively. “Do you?”

“Shut up, you prat. I didn’t mean it like _that_.” Harry laughed, knocking Malfoy’s shoulder with his.

Malfoy just rolled his eyes and sipped at his drink.

“George invited me, by the way,” he said after a moment of silence. “In case you were wondering.”

“I wasn’t,” Harry replied. _But I’m glad he did_ , he wanted to add.

“I assumed you’d try and throw me out.”

Harry snorted. “Did you? Is that why you were looking for me earlier?”

He laughed again when Malfoy blushed. It didn’t exactly feel _easy_ to chat with him — there’d been an underlying tension between them since the war ended that they hadn’t yet addressed — but the fact he’d come tonight, the fact he’d sought Harry out and was stood there being kind of funny and maybe a little bit charming, was intriguing to Harry.

“I didn’t realise I had such a reputation for being a horrible person,” Harry said, bumping Malfoy’s shoulder again because he kind of liked touching him.

“Of course you didn’t — oblivious to the end, Potter,” Malfoy drawled.  

“Well, I still might throw you out,” Harry assured him, fixing him with a serious look. “Unless you have a drink with me tonight.”

Malfoy’s lips quirked. “Don’t you think threatening someone into drinking with you is kind of sad?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “It’s not a threat; it was meant to be funny,” he insisted.

“It wasn’t.” Malfoy shook his head, but Harry was pretty sure he was trying not to smile.

“Well, whatever. Shut up,” Harry huffed. “I was trying to be friendly.”

Malfoy did smile then, and it did something funny to Harry’s chest.

“You're terrible at this,” Malfoy commented, a teasing smirk on his face.

“At what, trying to be friends?” Harry sulked.

“Is that what you're doing?” Malfoy wondered, as he drained the rest of his drink.

“Well, yes, but if it’s not working—”

“Do you want to dance?”

Harry startled. “What?”

“Do you want to dance?” Malfoy repeated patiently, eyes not leaving Harry’s face.

“With you?”

“No, Potter, with Granger and Weasley over there. I’m rather partial to dance floor orgies, aren’t you? Yes with me, you dolt.”

“I…” Harry — who had almost forgotten that they were in fact in his living room surrounded by people — nodded. “Okay,” he managed. “Sure.”

Malfoy set down his empty glass and held out a hand, and Harry, still wide-eyed and staring, accepted it.

“I’m telling you right now though, I can’t dance like that,” Malfoy warned, gesturing to where Ron and Hermione had progressed to full on snogging while they swayed slightly against one another. “And to be honest, I don’t think I want to.”

Harry laughed, a little bewildered, and let himself be led amongst the other dancers. He thought maybe a couple of people stared at them, but he was completely lost to anything outside the sensation of Malfoy’s hand holding his.

When Malfoy turned to him, wrapped an arm around his waist, and tugged him in close, Harry inhaled sharply.

“Holy fuck,” he whispered.

Malfoy’s fingers slowly slid over his hips and prompted him to start moving, and, swallowing down his nervousness, Harry obliged. He lifted his arms to wrap around Malfoy’s neck, inhaling the enticing scent of his cologne.

Harry wasn’t much of a dancer — he had his strengths and rhythm wasn’t one of them — but Malfoy took the lead, his hands holding Harry firmly in place as their bodies moved together.

If anyone had asked right then, Harry wouldn’t have known the name of the song playing or recognised a single person around them. His entire focus zeroed in on the feel of Malfoy’s soft breath against his neck and the heat of his hands as they fingered lightly at the hem of his shirt and grazed his skin.

He was completely lost. He was vaguely aware of the the minutes passing and the music changing, of one new song starting and then another, but Malfoy made no move to stop, so Harry didn’t either.

Harry found himself leaning in closer, pulling Malfoy nearer as his breathing became shallow and their bodies moved in sync with the soft beat around them. Malfoy led him with the confidence of a man who knew exactly what he was doing to Harry, and Harry let him; he didn’t want the moment to break.

He unhooked his arms and slid his hands from Malfoy’s shoulders down his chest, fisting them in the faded green fabric of Malfoy’s old Quidditch shirt.  

Malfoy’s breath stuttered and his fingers gripped Harry’s hips harder.

Everything felt intensified under the dim lights; every movement felt intentional, every lingering brush of skin-against-skin a deliberate suggestion. Malfoy’s lips grazed his neck and Harry shuddered. He didn’t want ‘just fine’ anymore. He didn’t want the calm, predictable existence he’d forged for himself. He didn’t want to hold back the energy that was fighting to get free of his body. What he wanted — what he _needed_ — was for Draco Malfoy to slowly take him apart and show him the chaos he was craving.

“Do you want to come upstairs?” Harry whispered into Malfoy’s ear before he lost his nerve.

Malfoy pulled back to look at him, eyes a little unfocused. Harry’s hand was still pressed to his chest and he could feel his heart pounding.

“Are you sure?”

Harry slowly and deliberately rolled his hips once, and Malfoy let out a soft groan, dropping his head to Harry’s shoulder.

"Fuck," he exhaled.

“I need you to come upstairs," Harry murmured, "and I need you to ruin me. Can you do that, Malfoy?”

The music and the chatter seemed to fade away altogether and all Harry could hear was a rushing in his ears as Malfoy pulled back again. It was excitement; anticipation. It was the feeling he’d been chasing.

And then Malfoy grabbed his hand and yanked him towards the stairs, and Harry knew that whatever happened next, it was going to change everything.

**Author's Note:**

> [Fic headers](http://hd-remix.tumblr.com/post/174723421619/drarry-fic-chaos) and a [pull quote](http://hd-remix.tumblr.com/post/174728687838/stop-staring-hes-looking-at-us-harry) have been posted to tumblr. Help promote the fest by liking and reblogging!


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